The Adventure of the Blue Box
by gnomeybear
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and his companion Dr. Watson are having a quiet evening one rainy night when a strange client comes to visit. He claims to have lost a "sonic screwdriver"?


**This is something I wrote a while back that I'm thinking of continuing. Basically, the Doctor has lost his sonic screwdriver, and he consults the famous Sherlock Holmes to help him find it. It's set in Conan-Doyle's time period. I would appreciate any reviews that people write, they really help. Don't be afraid to criticise! Also, if there is a particular ship or au you want me to write, send it to me and I'll be more than happy to comply. Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Who are not mine. **

It is common knowledge that my friend, Sherlock Holmes, is fond of interesting, complex cases. This particular case was the most interesting, complex, and defiantly the strangest in his career. Even though I am sworn to secrecy by the person involved, I still feel the need to put at least the beginning of these extraordinary events down on paper, and the rest I dare not include for fear of breaking my promise.

It all began one night when the autumn rain was pounding on the windows of our flat on Baker Street. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate. Holmes was in his usual chair, smoking his pipe, and I was reading a particularly interesting monograph on surgery. Suddenly, Holmes rose from his chair and strode over to the window.

"Halloa! What's this? It seems, Watson, that we have a peculiar visitor." He squinted into the darkness on the far side of the window. "Very peculiar indeed."

I tried to ply him for details, but he simply said, "You will see soon enough."

Just then, we heard eager footsteps on the stairs, and a knock on our door. Holmes crossed the room in three long strides and opened it.

'Greetings, my good fellow! Come in, and warm yourself. Now, what urgent business do you have for us?"

The man did not seem perturbed by Holmes's deduction, he only smiled and stepped into the flickering light.

He was truly the oddest man I had ever seen, and he still would have been even if he wasn't drenched. I quickly dragged a chair over in front of the fire and fetched a blanket, all the while staring at the man.

His hair was incredibly messy, and all of it seemed to flop onto one side. He wore a short jacket, a bow tie, and pants that were too short, so they lifted up when he sat down and revealed his argyle socks. He had no facial hair whatsoever, and no razor marks on his face.

He smiled when I handed him the blanket, and said, "Thank you, Dr. Watson." I started, as I had yet to be introduced.

Holmes sat down and surveyed the man with his sharp, penetrating gaze. I saw his eyes dart to his sleeve, then his shoes, then to his hair.

Our guest said, "So, Mr. Holmes? Any deductions?"

Holmes's eyebrows drew together. "The only explanation for you is…absurd. And yet, it is the _only _explanation."

Our guest smiled once again, more mysteriously this time, and replied, "Go on. What have you decided about me?"

Holmes leaned back and stuck his pipe in his mouth. "You are from the future."

I laughed and said, "Oh come, now Holmes, don't be ridiculous. You can't be serious."

"Why?" The stranger leaned towards Holmes. "What has led you to this marvellous conclusion? Or, should I say, how did you find out my secret?"

I gasped, and Holmes shot me a look that plainly said I should keep quiet. "Quite simply, three things. Your hair, your shoes, and your bow tie. Your hair is of a peculiar style, which, on it's own, could just be an eccentricity. However, when you take into account that your bow tie is made of some strange fabric unknown to me, and you shoes are also of strange style and made by a company that has yet to exist, I concluded that you could not be from this time."

"Quite right, Mr. Holmes. I am neither from this time, nor, in fact, this world."

"But…but." I spluttered, trying to wrap my mind around the recent turn of events. "But then, who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor? Doctor who?"

The man smiled, as if I had said something that reminded him of an old joke, and replied, "Just Doctor. Nothing else." He then turned to my companion and said, "Now, Mr. Holmes, you are quite right in suggesting that I come on urgent business, which I believe you took from the fact that I hadn't put on a raincoat when the weather is simply miserable and has been for the past three days." My friend nodded his approval, and the Doctor, as I shall hereby call him, continued. "I come with urgent business. I have lost something of great value to me, and it is absolutely vital I get it back. It is my sonic screwdriver, a long silver rod with green light at the top. I _must_ get it back."

"I understand, Doctor." My companion said, getting up. "Shall we go?"

"Certainly." The Doctor stood also, and straitened his bow tie.

"Wait!" cried I, "Where are you going?"

"I'm sure you don't mind, Doctor, if Dr. Watson joins us? He could be a great help to the investigation."

"Of course, of course, now, if you will follow me." He ran down the stairs with astonishing energy, and out into the night. Holmes and I followed.

About eight minutes later, our guest turned into a narrow side street, and Holmes and I, completely soaked, saw a strange blue box, large enough for a man to step into, at the end of it. It said Police Box at the top, but I had no clue what it's purpose was.

The Doctor opened the door and jumped inside. "Come on in." he said, beckoning. I protesting, because surely three full-grown men could not fit inside, but Holmes followed without question, and, to my surprise, disappeared inside the box.

"Come on, Watson, don't be shy." The Doctor smiled and beckoned again. Somewhat hesitantly, I stepped through he door, and gasped.

Somehow, though it defies the laws of physics, it was bigger on the inside. The strange, blue box was bigger on the inside. And what an inside! It was filled with gadgets and buttons and levers, so many it would take my whole life to figure out half of them. Holmes was prowling around it like a bloodhound, poking his long nose near the gadgets and nodding.

"This is my time machine." The Doctor said, smiling and obviously pleased. "It's called the TARDIS."

He pulled a lever and pressed a few buttons, and then our ears were filled with a curious WOOH, WOOH, WOOH, noise. The box jerked sideways, and we were off.


End file.
